That said, this month has just really been... not good.
Bend it Like Beckham - er, Jackson
As I have mentioned in other entries, Randy and I are satisfying our love of competitive sports and trying to deny our advancing age by competing in an adult co-ed soccer league. This ain't no laid-back, beer-swillin', big-gut softball-type league, Cletus. It's fast and physical (i.e., painful and more painful). But it's really fun. This is our second year.
Randy is a natural athlete who sometimes manages to be completely uncoordinated at the same time. Case in point: he can run a 5K without getting winded, but anytime he tries to run on a treadmill he trips over his own feet. (I'm not making this up. He actually fell off the treadmill at the fitness center when he looked up at the clock).
A few weeks ago, as he was dribbling the ball downfield with blazing speed in our match against "Team Advil," Randy's enthusiasm was defeated by his lack of finesse when he tried to do a cross-over and tripped on the ball. He broke his leg. (See actual video of the incident here).
Because of his ensuing pain, immense disappointment at being unable to play soccer (or exercise at all), and the fact that he isn't one of those lazy husbands who secretly enjoys having to sit on the couch while I do everything, I won't complain too much about how this affected moi. Just three words:- Crutches
- Madame Baby
- Two-story house
Oh No She Didn't!
Or, The Poop Escapades
There's simply no pretty way to say it. Mirabelle reached into her diaper, took the poop out and played with it.
[Pause for gagging]
She was in her crib wearing two-piece jammies when the first Poop Escapade (Poopscapade) took place. (Poopscapade. Kind of like the Ice Capades. Except the Ice Capades are something you want to see.) The Poop Police discovered most of the evidence on her hands and crib. Yep folks, it was yucky, and cleanup required a nail brush and clippers as well as the usual scrubbing. Never ever wanting to repeat the experience, I believed I could prevent further criminal activity by keeping her in a onesie.
She was in her crib wearing two-piece jammies when the first Poop Escapade (Poopscapade) took place. (Poopscapade. Kind of like the Ice Capades. Except the Ice Capades are something you want to see.) The Poop Police discovered most of the evidence on her hands and crib. Yep folks, it was yucky, and cleanup required a nail brush and clippers as well as the usual scrubbing. Never ever wanting to repeat the experience, I believed I could prevent further criminal activity by keeping her in a onesie.
Not so.
Two days later, I received a call at work to pick her up from daycare, where a repeat offense had been committed. But this time, the unspeakable act involved her hair and face.
This hair.
Besides being completely grossed out and unable to breathe through my nose, I was baffled as to how she did it, as she was wearing a long-sleeve onesie shirt.
She demonstrated her Houdini-esque skills as soon as we got home, before I even got her in the tub.
Three vigorous shampoos later, as I was investigating her hair and body with my nose to make sure the job was truly done, I actually thought the words, "It's a good thing poop smells."
No more chances. We are extra vigilant now - Randy in particular. I went to change her diaper one day and it was like peeling the layers of an onion: pants, onesie, another pair of pants, another onesie. Yes, he double-panted her.
Tossing Our Cookies in Interesting Places
(Why no, the gross parts aren't over yet)
Mirabelle had strep, which began with a night of vomiting. The problem with a 15-month-old vomiting is that there's no warning, it hits everything, and if you try to hold her over a bucket while it's happening she becomes mightily offended and knocks the bucket out of your hands. Then she tries to snuggle up close for comfort.
Three vigorous shampoos later, as I was investigating her hair and body with my nose to make sure the job was truly done, I actually thought the words, "It's a good thing poop smells."No more chances. We are extra vigilant now - Randy in particular. I went to change her diaper one day and it was like peeling the layers of an onion: pants, onesie, another pair of pants, another onesie. Yes, he double-panted her.
Tossing Our Cookies in Interesting Places
(Why no, the gross parts aren't over yet)
Mirabelle had strep, which began with a night of vomiting. The problem with a 15-month-old vomiting is that there's no warning, it hits everything, and if you try to hold her over a bucket while it's happening she becomes mightily offended and knocks the bucket out of your hands. Then she tries to snuggle up close for comfort.
A mere seven days later, the same Madame Puker developed gastroenteritis (good ol' fashioned stomach flu) and we were treated to a repeat performance.
We believe in sharing in this family. Mira was kind enough to share her tummy gift with the rest of us, except for Randy. We had subsequent vomiting adventures in a gas station (Abby); field (Abby); van (Abby); Target (Gracie); van (Ethan); and emergency room (Ethan). I just did my vomiting at home. Poor Ethan got so sick he had to go to the hospital and get anti-nausea meds.
How did Randy avoid this plague? I'm not sure, but I may have seen him ingesting Lysol straight from the can.
Too Much Chicken Neck Wringing and Break Dancing?
Or, Bend it Like Jackson, Take 2
Back to soccer. My injury is much less interesting than Randy's broken leg. I injured a ligament in my thumb when I tripped in a divot on the field and fell on my hand. It wouldn't be worth mentioning, except for the cool names of this particular injury: it's called skier's thumb, gamekeeper's thumb or (best of all) break dancer's thumb.
In case you're wondering, as I was, what might cause a "gamekeeper" injury:
It's no fun wearing a splint, but it IS fun to say casually, "Oh, I have break dancer's thumb," when someone asks what happened to your hand.
It's only mid-October, but it feels like a month of Sundays that we've been dealing with yucky (there's that word again) stress. Still, there's time for my birthday month to redeem itself. C'mon, better days!
Aw, how can you not smile?
We believe in sharing in this family. Mira was kind enough to share her tummy gift with the rest of us, except for Randy. We had subsequent vomiting adventures in a gas station (Abby); field (Abby); van (Abby); Target (Gracie); van (Ethan); and emergency room (Ethan). I just did my vomiting at home. Poor Ethan got so sick he had to go to the hospital and get anti-nausea meds.
How did Randy avoid this plague? I'm not sure, but I may have seen him ingesting Lysol straight from the can.
Too Much Chicken Neck Wringing and Break Dancing?
Or, Bend it Like Jackson, Take 2
Back to soccer. My injury is much less interesting than Randy's broken leg. I injured a ligament in my thumb when I tripped in a divot on the field and fell on my hand. It wouldn't be worth mentioning, except for the cool names of this particular injury: it's called skier's thumb, gamekeeper's thumb or (best of all) break dancer's thumb.
In case you're wondering, as I was, what might cause a "gamekeeper" injury:
By repetitively wringing the necks of game (eg, chickens) between their thumb and index finger, gamekeepers produced a chronic stretching of the UCL that resulted in instability at the first metacarpophalangeal (MCP) joint. The condition became known as gamekeeper's thumb.Mmm... Wringing chicken necks... Yum...
It's no fun wearing a splint, but it IS fun to say casually, "Oh, I have break dancer's thumb," when someone asks what happened to your hand.
It's only mid-October, but it feels like a month of Sundays that we've been dealing with yucky (there's that word again) stress. Still, there's time for my birthday month to redeem itself. C'mon, better days!
Aw, how can you not smile?
4 comments:
Round about reading the double pantsing of small children- I was laughing so hard, I knew this one was hitting my 'highlight real'!
so sorry!
anna has the matching pair to the cute halloween shirt from the martins! we should take a picture of our two "twins" who look not much alike and who have different birthdays but DO have many of the same clothes!
hang in there!
shana
Thanks for making the yucky parts of parenting make me laugh for once. Your post brought me a wee bit of comfort, as we had a poopscapade performer in our house once upon a time as well. It is the most awful thing, really, especially if it is drying up. YUCK. I told my husband the exact same thing about the hidden blessing of poop's smell. Lovely. Sorry to hear that you all have had a tough month, it will get better!!
Oh Jules, I am so sorry! In the words of Judith Viorst (author of Alexander and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day), "some days (months?) are like that." We had those months over the summertime. And Steve and I made the fatal mistake of forgetting to tell the babysitter (my mom) to never, ever, put L to bed without pants over her diaper. Big, BIG mistake. I had to scrub her (including around her mouth -- blick!), her crib, her rug, her wall (shiver!). Grossest experience ever. No surprise that the next morning she had barf all over her crib. Horrible!
--Karin
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